Impressions
by coeurgryffondor
Summary: There's a few minutes of downtime where nations seek out missing nations, Kristina firmly planted in her seat behind a little placard reading Norway . To her right was Sweden ; to her left, Denmark . / Possibly follows Kristina though not necessarily. Married Sweden/fem!Norway.


Author's note: Possibly follows « Kristina » though not necessarily. Married Sweden/fem!Norway.

Sometimes I wish Norway was a chick. I adore Lukas so much but I also love Kristina and imagining what would have been different for her. I feel like a lot of people would look at her passing by and think she has this perfect, fairytale life without realizing how hard her life has been and how many tears she's cried. And I missed writing her attitude in heels and her relationship with the men around her.

* * *

**Impressions**

She fidgets in front of the mirror, adjusting her jacket over and over. It's not like she cared in particular, but this was her first meeting with the other European nations where there would see her, well–

"You look beautiful," Berwald whispers sweetly, coming to stand behind Kristina and wrapping his arms around her. He lays a hand atop her growing stomach. "My wife and mother of my children."

No, Kristina didn't care how she looked. Her husband thought she was beautiful, the rest of the world be damned.

* * *

There's a few minutes of downtime where nations seek out missing nations, Kristina firmly planted in her seat behind a little placard reading « Norway ». To her right was « Sweden »; to her left, « Denmark » and the handsy Dane who keeps putting a hand on her belly.

But the way Christen smiles, that serene look of happiness and pure, unadulterated joy, makes Kristina melt. Maybe it was the hormones coursing through her, maybe it was knowing how long Christen had loved her and how strong he was in always letting her instead love his enemy; whatever it was the Norwegian reaches out to wrap her arms around his neck, hugging her southern neighbor. Christen, surprised, reciprocates.

"I'm so excited!" he murmurs for her and Kristina smiles at that.

"Me too."

* * *

After they sit on a bench in the hall, the Norwegian woman in her brother's arms while her husband calls about the dinner reservation for the five Nordic nations and his adopted son. The sound of yelling down the hall indicates where Peter has gotten off to.

"Can someone please get him?" Kristina, eyes closed, pleads. Footsteps sound as they walk away, someone kneeling before her to rub her thigh then place a hand reassuringly on the side of her swollen stomach.

"You alright?" Christen asks quietly. "We don't have to go out." Someone else sits beside her and that body she recognizes immediately as Berwald.

"I need a nap first is all," she assures the men, opening her eyes and smiling for them, "and for someone to bring me our son." As if on cue Timo comes back with a very put-off looking Peter who walks immediately into his mother's awaiting arms.

"Arthur was so mean to me!" the little boy pouts.

"There, there, tell Mama and Papa what happened so we can make it all better." No one doubts how much they spoil the little boy they adopted gladly, delighted to finally have a child in their family.

And soon they would have a second one, biologically theirs, to spoil just as much.

* * *

On the way back to the hotel after dinner Kristina's feet ache; she loves her heels but she wasn't sure how much further into her pregnancy she could go on wearing them.

When her husband finally opens the door, Peter running in happily, Berwald lifts his wife with ease to carry her to the bed. The three of them all change quietly into their pajamas to the dull roar of the television, Peter snuggling in on his father's one side while Kristina takes Berwald's other arm.

They watch an animated film before calling it a night.

* * *

In the airport, waiting for their flight back to Stockholm, someone makes a snide comment about Kristina's family, something about being blond and pale and "perfect" with a tone she doesn't like.

Berwald pulls his wife close at that, kissing the top of her head. Peter, oblivious, bounces happily on his feet reading out the English menu for his father.

And all the Norwegian can do is shake her head and sigh, pressing her nose into her husband's chest. As if anyone else knew what she had gone through. As if anyone else knew how she had struggled. As if anyone else knew what her relationship with her husband had been like, what years of miscarriages because medicine wasn't advanced enough to help her, had done to her soul. As if anyone else knew how much she loved Berwald and how happy she was to have Peter and how scared she was of losing the child growing inside her but excited too at the prospect that maybe, this time, it would all be alright.

As if anyone knew Kristina.


End file.
